


The Machine Job

by 19yearslater



Category: Leverage, Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Leverage/Person of Interest Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-02-28 18:02:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19yearslater/pseuds/19yearslater
Summary: Team Machine receives the number of a member of Team Leverage.Team Leverage is tipped off on a member of Team Machine.How will Team Machine protect its number when its number thinks Team Machine wants them dead? Will both teams eventually work together? Or will one destroy the other?Set after the end of POI but before the end of Leverage. Also John is not dead and Root was found alive.





	1. The Blonde

“Alice White” says Finch as he smooths the tape holding the woman’s picture on the glass board in the new safe house of Team Machine. “Her number came in this morning.”

“I must say Harry, it’s always so much fun when our numbers are so nice to look at.” Root says, side-eyeing Shaw who is leaning on the desk right next to her. Shaw rolls her eyes. Ever since she had found Root after the destruction of Samaritan and had finally given in to the tall woman’s romantic advances, Root’s teasing had been almost insufferable. It’s almost as if Root knows how jealous it makes her, which in itself is its own brand of annoying. Although, Shaw has to grudgingly admit the blonde in the photo is rather attractive.

Finch carries on, seemingly oblivious to the whole exchange. “Ms. White is 39 years old, has one sister in Phoenix, Arizona. She’s had multiple jobs including employments as a bookkeeper and as a cashier at Value More. She’s moved around a bit with previous addresses including Boston and Portland. Oh, and according to her profile on Friendczar, she’s a vegetarian.”

“Anything out of the ordinary?” asks Reese.

“Nothing, which is rather strange for most people. I ran a background check and it completely checks out. There’s not even a parking ticket on her record.” Finch types a few more keystrokes on his keyboard. “She was summoned for jury duty in 2008. And she was a survivor of an explosion that occurred at the Venezuelan consulate in Boston in 2011. Other than that, there’s really nothing about her at all.” Finch swivels in his chair to face the team, turning away from his computer. “It looks as if you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Can you get us a location?” Shaw asks.

“Her credit card was used earlier today to book _three_ hotel rooms at the Nomad Hotel, at the corner of Broadway and 28 th.” Finch raises an eyebrow when he finishes his statement.

“Three?” says Root. “That’s a strange thing for one person to do.”

“Quite, Ms. Groves. Perhaps Ms. White isn’t exactly as ordinary as she seems.”

“Excellent, I always love a woman of mystery,” Root smirks. Shaw straightens from her relaxed position on the desk and punches her girlfriend’s shoulder. Root rubs the area looking at Shaw with a mock hurt expression.

Shaw’s eyes narrow. “Oh wipe that look off your face. We both know that turns you on,” Shaw says. Root’s expression morphs into her signature half smile.

“I sincerely hope the flirting isn’t going to continue during our stake out,” Reese says as he heads for the door. “Otherwise, I’m not going.”

Root and Shaw glance at each other with identical smirks covering their faces.

\---

“Finch,” Shaw inquires as she peers through the binoculars while perched on the roof of the apartment building across the street from the Nomad Hotel. “Does Alice White have any known associates?”

“Like friends you mean?” Reese replies from inside the parked black Lincoln.

Shaw glares down at the roof of the car that Reese and Root both occupy. “No, like hitters that have previously been targets of the ISA.” She looks through the binoculars again. “Look at the man with the long brown hair. She was just speaking to him.”

Root zooms in with the camera on the man her girlfriend just referenced. She snaps a couple of photos of just him. Then another as Alice comes back outside the hotel and talks to him. She could swear she sees him look over at their car, right at the lens of her camera, but she blinks and he’s already looking away.

Finch’s unique voice speaks into their ears. “ _Make sure you take a good picture of his features. I’ll need it for facial recognition when you return.”_

Reese nods. “I’m going to go talk to Fusco about this man too. If the ISA has heard of him, maybe the NYPD has too.”

“Good, then Sameen and I will have the car all to ourselves,” Root says.

Reese looks as though he has no intention of giving up the car to the girls, but seems to think better of disagreeing. He gets out of the car, straightens his crisp, black suit, and heads toward the nearest subway station.

Meanwhile, Shaw walks back into the building, down 15 floors, and out the front door where she opens the front door on the driver's side. Root is waiting for her as she climbs in. She grabs the smaller girl’s face, and leans into Shaw’s lips for a deep kiss.

Suddenly, Reese’s voice sounds in their ear, _“you guys had better not do anything weird in that car while I’m gone.”_

Sameen chuckles at Reese’s inability to say “sex” but she and Root move away from each other.

The two sit in silence on their stakeout, Root uses the Wi-Fi from the hotel to hack into its servers with help from the Machine while Shaw stares at the snowflakes that have begun to drift lazily down from the sky.

“Root,” she says abruptly. “What do you make of this Alice girl?”

“Well she’s certainly got a great shape.” Root gasps as Shaw’s hand flings out to smack her in the arm. “What?” Root says. “You’re telling me you don’t agree?”

“Not the point. I meant that I keep getting this weird feeling. All of these strange things we keep seeing, the hotel rooms, the hitter, all scream fake identity to me, but Finch seems to think her identify is real. Something about this one feels off.”

“Well,” Root pauses, glancing at the hotel and back again. “If she were a decent person with nothing to hide then she wouldn’t exactly be in danger would she?”

“Fair point.”

Root leans closer as the left side of her mouth curves upward. “And I think that both you and I know that living with nothing to hide doesn’t make life worth living at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Up next will be a chapter from the Leverage team's perspective. Updates will (hopefully) be every Friday.


	2. The Mysterious Man

“Roll it,” says Nate, sitting down in the armchair next to the window in one of Leverage, Inc.’s rooms at the Nomad Hotel.

Hardison glances at him briefly before turning to the TV screen he had hacked into to put up the presentation.

“Alright so our next target is a man named Harold Wren.” With another click of the remote, a picture of a bespectacled man, wearing a gray suit with short, brown hair appears on the screen. “Now this man works for a company called Universal Heritage Insurance.”  
  
“Ok so what’s so bad about him?” Parker asks before putting another potato chip into her mouth. “I mean come on, he looks like a nerd.” She looks at Hardison, Sophie, and Eliot who all just brush off the comment as another one of Parker’s quirks.

“Well sweet thang,” Hardison says, followed by the Eliot's audible groan. “I was just getting to that.” He turns back to the television screen. “His title is ‘insurance underwriter’ which would probably seem to confirm Parker’s theory. Except for just a few extra strange things.”

“Strange things?” asks Sophie from her seat at the foot of the bed.  
  
“Bigtime. He studied at MIT where he graduated in 1980 at the top of his class.”  
  
“Hang on, you said this guy works in insurance?” Eliot says. “What did he do at MIT?”  
  
“An excellent question. Now before I was so rudely interrupted, I have some more to say.” Hardison looks around at the other four members of Leverage, Inc., daring them to interject again. “Now he’s got a niece named Robin Farrow who he checked into a psychiatric hospital in 2012. She has since escaped, but here is her picture for reference.”  
  
On the screen is a brunette who looks about 35. She’s in the hallway of a hospital wearing a tan shirt and pants with a light blue robe over top. Her eyes are looking up at the camera through her lashes and her mouth is twisted into a cocky half-smile as she holds up a gun.  
  
Eliot stares hard at this woman. She looks familiar to him somehow, but he just can’t quite place it.  
  
“Hardison, why is a psych patient holding a gun?” Sophie asks.  
  
“That is just one of the many questions I have for this man. Would you like to hear more?”  
  
“What else could there be to say?” says Parker.  
  
“Believe me, this is the big stuff.” Hardison turns back to the screen. "This Harold Wren has an account at OneState Bank containing 1.4 billion dollars.”  
  
Finally, there is silence across the room as all five members of Leverage let that number sink in.  
  
“Ok, but we still don’t have any indication of something this guy did wrong. Having billions of dollars probably means he isn’t an honest man, but that doesn’t mean we have to get involved.” Sophie states.  
  
“Oh, did I forget to mention? Harold Wren is also responsible for the Ice-9 virus.” Hardison’s statement is met by blank stares. “This man single-handedly crippled the Internet’s infrastructure around the world for three days.” Hardison clicks the remote again and the screen goes blank.  
  
“And there’s one last thing. Harold Wren was born in 1958 but there is no record of him anywhere before 1976. Nothing. Not a home address, no parents, not even a goddamn school yearbook. The man just appeared at MIT.”  
  
There is another moment of silence.  
  
“Ok I take it back. This guy isn’t a nerd. No nerd’s life is this exciting.” Parker says.  
  
“Hey, I’m a nerd,” says Hardison. “Isn’t my life pretty exciting?”  
  
“You’re not a nerd. You’re a thief. Of course your life is exciting.”  
  
“Are you two done?” Nate asks. “Because we have a lot of questions that need answers.” Nate rises from his chair. “First thing we need to do is figure out who the hell this man really is.” He turns to the blond. “Parker, I want you and Hardison to go undercover at this insurance company. You’ll keep an eye on him Parker, while Hardison hacks into the company’s mainframe.”  
  
“You got it. No insurance underwriter also happens to have billions of dollars. I bet there is more information on his computer.” Hardison says.  
  
“Sophie, you and I will go to the psychiatric hospital where his niece was held. Take on one of your doctor aliases and I’ll be your assistant. We’ll try to get as much information about her as we can. Meanwhile Eliot, do you think you can reach out to Colonel Vance? I bet the military knows quite a bit about this virus.”  
  
Eliot nods in response, pulls his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans and leaves the hotel room.  
  
“So what con were you thinking Nate? The Arctic Circus? The Chinese Russian Doll?” asks Sophie as she stands up from the bed.  
  
“Honestly, we can’t pick one until we figure out who this man really is. That’s the only way we’re going to figure out his hook.”  
  
“Oh come on Nate, you don’t need someone’s life story to run a con! I could run a con on any person we pass by in the street.” Sophie walks to the closet to fetch her coat.  
  
“Yes, sure, you can run a simple con on some normal person we find in the street. We need to take down a man that is hiding almost as many secrets as you. Would you just run a con on yourself? Or would you maybe do a bit more research first?”  
  
“Alright, fine,” she pushes his shoulder as she walks past him. “But once this is done I want at least one day to do some shopping in the city.”  
  
Nate sighs and heads towards the door to follow his girlfriend.  
  
“Nate, can I have a second?” Hardison says. Nate pauses and then slowly turns around. “Shouldn’t we tell them where you got all of this information?”  
  
“Now why would I do that, Hardison?”  
  
“Because that seems to be the only place this guy exists. There’s almost no record of him on the Internet anywhere. All that I found was that he got some award for purchasing the highest number of some New York art magazine.” Hardison walks closer to Nate. “I don’t like lying to them Nate. Especially Parker.”  
  
“Look, Hardison, if even half of the information we have on this guy is true, he deserves to be taken down. The effects of that virus nearly cost Parker her life, or are you forgetting?”  
  
Hardison opens his mouth to respond but Nate doesn’t give him the chance. The older man quickly turns around and walks out of the door.

\---

After tying her dark hair into a ponytail, Sophie walks into the psychiatric hospital just ahead of Nate. She traipses up to the front desk and puts a nice friendly smile on her face, adjusting her large, round glasses.  
  
“Hi there,” she says in a startlingly convincing New York accent to the woman sitting behind. “My name is Dr. Campbell and this is my assistant Mr. Milo. We’re from the hospital on the south side of Queens. Recently, we got a patient into our facility and a search told us that she was previously a patient here. Her name is Robin Farrow.”  
  
The nurse types a few keystrokes into her computer and then says, “Yes, she was a patient here up until 2013. How can I help you?”  
  
“Well it would be most helpful for us to get a copy of her file. We want to figure out how best to help her. We figured her previous doctor might also have some ideas?”  
  
“Yes, absolutely. Unfortunately, her doctor passed away some time ago. However, I can take you to our file room? Hers should be in there somewhere.” The nurse rises and leads Nate and Sophie to a door to the right of the desk.  
  
“He died? I’m sorry to hear that.” Nate says as the nurse unlocks the door.  
  
“Yeah, it was actually pretty crazy. There was an attack on the hospital. A couple of other doctors died, as did patients. Some also escaped. That’s what happened to your Robin Farrow.” She leads them to a shelf in the back of the rather cramped room. 

“Lucky thing she’s back inside a facility again. Maybe she’ll get the help she needs this time.”

“That is our goal of course!” Sophie says, looking at the section of files that the nurse had pointed them to.

“Alright well I’ll leave you two here, take all the time you’d like. If you need to make any copies there’s a copy machine right next to the door.” With that, the nurse walks out of the door leaving Nate and Sophie alone with Robin Farrow’s file.

\---

Meanwhile, Hardison and Parker arrive at the Universal Heritage Insurance building. They park Lucille in an alley about a block away and make their way to the front door.

“Hardison, something doesn’t feel right.” Parker says, glancing around at the people passing them by on the sidewalk.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” Hardison replies.

“I have that feeling I get when I’m picked up on a camera. Like there’s something staring at me.” She stops in her tracks and looks around, her eyes glancing over a construction worker, a man in a suit, a woman sipping coffee. All normal city dwellers. Parker faces forward again, her head shaking just slightly. “I’m probably just being weird again. I’m sure everything is fine.” As if to emphasize her point, she plants a kiss on Hardison’s cheek and enters the building.

“That girl is crazy,” Hardison says, pausing a moment to watch his girlfriend walk away before following her inside.

\---

“Who are you?” Eliot growls as he throws yet another punch that gets deflected by the rather small brunette, her long hair flying around as she spins to aim another kick at his head.

“Someone who knows that you should be dead,” she retorts, dodging his elbow.

Eliot had noticed his tail ten minutes after his meeting with Colonel Vance. He’d at first thought it was just a coincidence until he’d noticed her glaring at him. Then he’d gone on the offensive.

The woman pulls out a gun and moves her arm to aim it at him. He kicks it out of her hands but she retaliates by finally managing to hit him in the head. Eliot falls to the ground, dazed but still conscious, but the woman is already running away. She’s got one finger pressed against her ear, and as she turns the corner he hears her words:

“Finch, I was right. It was Eliot Spencer. And if he’s involved, Alice White is almost certainly an alias.”

Eliot considers running after his opponent, but the pounding in his head finally reaches a peak. Instead he pulls out his cell phone and angrily pokes at the screen until he gets the number he wants.

“Nate?” he says after the line connects. “We’ve got a problem. I was just attacked. And whoever she is, she knows about Alice White.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your kind words on chapter 1! Stay tuned for chapter 3 next Friday


	3. Connection

“Ms. Shaw,” Harold begins as he hears Shaw’s rapid breathing after her fight. “Who exactly is this Eliot Spencer?”

“ _Why don’t you tell me Finch_?” Shaw replies. Finch hears the slam of a car door, and then a faint rumble of an engine starting. “ _All the ISA ever told us was he was in independent contractor. I think he calls himself a retrieval specialist. Mostly they just told us to kill him._ ”

“Alright Ms. Shaw, I’ll see what I can do.”

“ _I’m going to the hotel. Root will probably need some help searching the rooms_.”

The background noise behind Shaw’s voice cuts out as she ends the call. Finch takes a deep breath. Sameen is always so difficult when cases get too close to her past with the ISA. He’d noticed some improvement in her mood once they’d finally found Root, to the point where he sometimes forgets about her personality disorder. Especially when she can be so gentle and affectionate towards Root.

Another voice kicks him out of his thoughts.

_“Finch? You’re never going to guess what building Alice White just walked into_ ,” says Reese.

“Then enlighten me, Mr. Reese.”

“ _Universal Heritage Insurance. And she was talking to another man who headed in shortly after her.”_

“Who?”

_“I’ve got the picture coming to you now. I haven’t been able to get close enough to clone her phone yet but given my proximity to the real version of Harold Wren, I’m not sure going in would be a good idea. I wouldn’t want you to have to disappear from this job like you did the last time I dropped in on you at work.”_

Both men think back to seven years ago when their relationship was just beginning.

“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Reese, but we still haven’t figured out the source of the danger to Ms. White. Can you get another vantage point to see into the building?”

_“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”_ Reese’s line cuts off.

On Finch’s screen, the picture of the man Reese saw with Alice White appears, but it is suddenly blocked by a dialogue box that opens in front of it.

_Alert, Analog Interface, Alias: Robin Farrow, Stoneridge Hospital._

Finch, perplexed, clicks the box for more information. On the screen, a surveillance video appears revealing a man and a woman exiting the facility. The woman, dark-haired and well-dressed, is holding a patient file. The timestamp in the upper right-hand corner indicates that this event occurred today, about two minutes ago.

“ _Harry?_ ” Root’s voice sounds through Finch’s computer.

“Yes Ms. Groves,” Finch is pulled away from the troubling sight of his computer screen. “Did you and Ms. Shaw find anything of interest at the hotel?”

“ _You could say that.”_ Shaw responds.

“ _We’ve gone through two of the three rooms. So far, we’ve found four sets of luggage. One with some more feminine stuff and one that seems more masculine in each room.”_ Root says.

_“_ So Ms. White is traveling with at least three other associates.”

“ _Well that’s not all.”_ Shaw says.

_“Yeah, I used my FBI badge to see if I could get more information from the woman working at the front desk. She says that there were five people who checked in, including Alice White. And she heard one of them mention a company called Leverage, Inc. Does that mean anything to you Harry?”_

“I’ll do a search. Perhaps if you two keep looking, you’ll find some information as well.”

_“You got it, Harry,_ ” says Root, and then she hangs up.

Finch is left alone in silence once again, wondering how much more complicated this number can get.

\---

After talking to the lady at the front desk wearing too much lipstick and followed by a short conversation with the head of the HR department who smelled like old cats, Parker was sent to the fourth floor of the Universal Heritage Insurance building where she’s been taking calls for the last hour. Parker never realized how much people wanted to get out of their insurance payments until she heard the excuses the callers gave. People must not think much of customer service representatives because one lady tried to convince her that her car had driven itself off a cliff. It’s all Parker can do to keep from laughing at these poor attempts at a con.

Fortunately for her growling stomach, it is time for lunch. That means putting on her Alice White personality. Charming, friendly, socially-adept. Parker sees three people gathered around a takeout menu and walks over to join them, hoping they’ll have some information on this Harold guy.

Before she even has the chance to say anything, one of the three, a blonde woman wearing a leopard print dress, sees her and says, “Hi! You must be the newbie. My name is Heather, this is Mark,” she gestures to the tall, thin man on her left. “And this is Stephanie.” The redhead on Heather’s right gives a small smile and waves.

Parker places what she hopes is an equally friendly smile on her face. “Hey guys, I’m Alice. It’s nice to meet you!”

“You too,” says Stephanie. “We’re just figuring out what to order for lunch. Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, absolutely! I’m starving.” Parker replies.

Meanwhile, Hardison is still stuck in the stuffy basement, surrounded by mainframes humming rather loudly, trying to figure out which one runs to Harold Wren’s office.

“You know I’m starving too, Parker. Is there any way you can bring some food down to me?”

_“Not without making everyone suspicious!”_ Parker hisses through Hardison’s earbud.

“Fine, then next time you get to be stuck in the basement and I’ll eat lunch.” Hardison rolls his eyes, knowing even as he finishes the statement that he’ll always be the one stuck in the basement.

About 25 minutes later, the pizza arrives at the building and Parker breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe having donuts for breakfast wasn’t the best plan for a filling meal but hey, they were delicious. Once Mark grabs the pizza from the delivery boy who barely gets the chance to exit the elevator, Parker, Heather, Mark, and Stephanie all sit down around a round table in the break room.

“So Alice, what brings you to insurance?” Mark asks.

“Oh,” Parker is focused on eating her pizza and has not regained Alice’s composure quite yet. “I’m just really into helping people protect their belongings.” There, that was good, right?

All three of her coworkers start laughing. What did she say wrong?

“You’re really funny Alice,” says Heather. Parker just smiles and nods, looking at the other three, figuring now might be the best time to find about this Harold Wren.

“So does anything interesting happen here?”

Heather, Mark, and Stephanie share a look.

“There isn’t much interesting about insurance,” replies Stephanie.

“Wait Steph, there’s that guy with the really nice office,” Heather stretches out the word “really” into about five syllables.

“Wait isn’t that the guy you hate Mark?” says Stephanie, now remembering this other coworker.

“I wouldn’t say that I _hate_ him but he never shows up! Why is his office three times the size of mine? We have the same job!” Mark says.

“Because the world just isn’t fair,” says Heather, hiding a smile.

“Wait, there’s a guy here that never shows up for work?” Parker asks.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him, like, twice since I’ve been here?” Stephanie looks at her friends for confirmation. “And I’ve been here for four years.”

Heather nods. “His name is Harold, I think. Real nerdy looking guy.”

“Harold Wren. He’s the reason I think about quitting this job daily.” Mark says.

“And which one is his office?” asks Parker.

Mark gestures to a room with a closed door and several windows facing into the building, all with the blinds drawn. It’s about 60 feet from the break room.

Parker stands up suddenly from the table. Noticing the stares, she says, “Um, where’s the ladies room?”

Stephanie points her in the right direction and Parker heads off.

“Hardison, did you get all that?”

“ _Yeah, what kind of employee never shows up for work?”_ Hardison sounds slightly out of breath.

“What are you doing?”

“ _Oh nothing, you know, just doing some very complicated rewiring without any kind of gratitude from my own coworkers.”_

“Ok well I need you up here.” Parker pushes open the door to the restroom.

“ _What part of very complicated wiring did you not understand?”_

“What part of Harold Wren never shows up to work didn’t you understand?” The woman standing at the sink in the bathroom stares at Parker as she enters. Parker smiles at her and waits for her to leave before continuing. “Forget the wiring. Just come up to his actual office.”

“ _Oh I love it when you have great ideas.”_

“Hardison!”

“ _Yeah, yeah, on my way up.”_

Five minutes later, Hardison walks out of the elevator. He looks at Parker who jerks her head to her left in the direction of Harold Wren’s empty office. Hardison heads for the office but stops when he gets to the locked door. He turns and glances at Parker, looking pointedly to the lock and back to her.

Parker rolls her eyes, but stands up to help him with the lock.

Forty seconds later, the door swings into the room and Hardison walks inside leaving Parker to go back to her seat.

Heather’s head pops up over the wall between her and Parker’s cubicles.

“Who was that guy?”

“Just a friend,” Parker replies.

“He’s a pretty good-looking friend,” Heather looks toward the office. “Is he single?”

Parker whips her head around to face the other woman. “No.”

“Ok, ok sorry, Alice,” Heather’s face disappears.

In Harold Wren’s office, Hardison looks around at the bare space. There are no pictures, no personal effects. The space doesn’t even look like it belongs to anyone. At the desk is a computer monitor, a fact for which Hardison is extremely grateful. This will be much easier than going at it from the basement.

He moves the mouse and the screen lights up revealing a login screen. Hardison’s fingers fly over the keyboard and a couple minutes later the back door he created opens and he is inside the system. Hardison can’t help but chuckle to himself. Computer security really is a joke these days.

For twenty minutes Hardison looks through the man’s computer, trying to find any information about Harold Wren’s life. He’s looking through the files when he comes across one that is encrypted. What could an insurance nerd possibly need to encrypt?

Hardison launches his decryption algorithm and then leans back in his chair to wait for it to work. Suddenly the screen freezes, flashes, and then sparks pour out of the keyboard. Hardison throws himself backward out of harm’s way, heart racing. Streams of code pour down the screen, and what Hardison can make out is extremely sophisticated. It’s like a train wreck that he can’t tear his eyes from and then as suddenly as it began, the havoc stops.

Hardison slowly inches toward the monitor, noticing the blackened keys on the keyboard from the short-circuiting. He reaches toward the computer sitting next to the monitor, hoping to gain something from this venture when he sees the screen flash again out of the corner of his eye.

_STOP._

For the first time, Hardison sees the camera sitting on top of the monitor. He reaches toward it, hoping to disconnect it when the words change.

_FORGET ABOUT HAROLD WREN._

How does the encrypted file know about what he’s doing there?

_GET OUT, ALEC HARDISON. NOW._

Hardison doesn’t have time to wonder how the file knows his name before more sparks pour out of the keyboard and the computer itself goes up in flames.

\---

On Harold’s screen, another dialogue box opens.

_Intruder. Universal Heritage Insurance. Admin, Compromised Alias: Harold Wren._

A picture of a black man in his late twenties appears. Through the webcam it’s difficult to tell, but it could be the same man whose picture John had sent him. The man’s eyes are glued to a spot below the camera. The room lights up as sparks emanate from somewhere below the scope of the webcam and then the man runs out of the frame.

The monitor fades to black again. Harold is frozen, his eyes continue to stare at the space that just shattered the safe feeling he had felt since the destruction of Samaritan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say how much I appreciate anyone reading this fic. I've really enjoyed writing these chapters and I'm so happy there are people to read them!  
> As a side note, if you want to see more stuff about Leverage, Person of Interest, or a whole bunch of other fandoms you can take a look at my blog, 19yearslaater.tumblr.com.  
> There will be another update coming your way next Friday!


	4. Contact

Hardison turns and runs out of the office at Universal Heritage Insurance, sprinting toward the elevator. Parker, who takes note of his behavior, jumps up from her chair to follow him. Behind her she hears Heather call out her name.

“Hardison,” she calls out with no response. “HARDISON!” She arrives at the elevator which dings and then the doors open. Both rush in.

Hardison turns to face Parker. “I think a computer just tried to attack me.”

Parker stares at him.

“What?” says Hardison, as always not sure what she’s thinking.

“I thought computers were your thing.”

“They are but that’s not the point!” Hardison’s sigh resonates between the two of them. “Something or someone just tried _to attack me_.” He enunciates the last four syllables. “The keyboard threw off sparks and the computer overheated.”

“Couldn’t that just be a malfunction? Like when Lucille gets too hot.”

“Ordinarily, sure. But there were words too. And code. Lots of it.” Hardison thinks more closely back to the information that had poured down the screen. “It was more sophisticated than I’ve ever seen.”

“Ok what did the computer say?”

Hardison looks at Parker. “That I should stay away from Harold Wren.”

Parker eyes meet his and then flit away, her eyebrows coming together. “Well if it’s connected to that guy then we need someone to keep watching his office. See if he ever turns up.”

Hardison whips his head back and forth. “Oh no, you are not about to do what I think you’re about to do.”

“Oh come on, Hardison!” Parker rolls her eyes. “Whoever hacked the computer knows about you, not me. All I’m going to do is keep watch. I won’t even go near Harold Wren’s office.”

“No, this is a really bad idea,” Hardison steps closer to her.

Behind him, the elevator doors open and Parker shoves him outside. He’d forgotten how strong she was. But that moment of memory costs him as the doors close shut, taking Parker out of his view. Hardison knows he can’t follow her up there, whoever the hacker is, he knew Hardison’s name and therefore his face. Besides, if he can’t get into the computer, he’s not really of use anymore. He hates it but Parker is right. The best thing to do now is to continue surveillance.

\---

“This Robin Farrow is certainly a piece of work,” Sophie thinks aloud as she and Nate walk into their hotel room back at the Nomad hotel. She enters without looking up from the file they had obtained from Stoneridge Hospital. “From the looks of it she appears to be almost as religious as you, Nate.”

“That means she must be a piece of work?” Nate says, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the hotel’s minibar.

Sophie pauses for a moment to give Nate a look out of the corner of her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Ok,” he takes a sip from his drink. “What did you mean?”

“She believes in a higher power, but not any god that you or I know. Dr. Carmichael writes that Robin refers to her god as a she. And that whoever this ‘she’ is, she was created in Manhattan in 2002.”

“Good, so she’s delusional.”

“That’s not it though, Nate. Her doctor didn’t believe that she was. He says: ‘Robin, although she possesses ideas of grandeur, her fear seems well-founded. She speaks of events that she believes will happen in the future. Her need to communicate with the entity surpasses any delusions I have seen. I have isolated her from any electronic devices following an incident where she stole my cell phone.’”

“And that doesn’t sound delusional to you?”

“Nate, you’re not a woman so you wouldn’t understand!” Sophie walks to the dresser to put down the file. “She was desperate and she was afraid. It sounds like perhaps she was communicating with some woman who told her about things that could happen.” Sophie picks up the photograph of the woman who is speaking into the payphone in the hallway of the hospital. Sophie shakes her head. “No, whatever landed her in the facility, her fear is very real. And I would bet you that whatever entity this ‘she’ is, Robin is speaking to her on the phone here.”

Nate looks at the photo Sophie holds up to him. The woman is clutching the phone as a lifeline, her eyes distant and filled with desperation as she listens to whatever is coming through the bright yellow receiver.

Suddenly, there is pounding on their hotel room door. Both Nate and Sophie jump at the sound, then Eliot’s voice sounds through:

“Nate, open up!”

Nate puts down his whiskey and walks to the door where he reveals a very disheveled Eliot.

“What happened to you?” Sophie asks at the sight of him.

“Did the woman you told me about do this?” Nate asks, with just a hint of amusement in his voice.

“The woman I told you about could have killed you, Nate.” Eliot walks to the armchair next to the window and slumps down into it. “She was trained. Well trained. She’s definitely a former marine, but the thing is, I felt like I recognized her. She also told me I should be dead.”

“Did she try to kill you before?” asks Sophie, taking some ice from the freezer section of their mini fridge and stuffing it into a plastic bag.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Maybe? You’re not sure?” says Nate.

“Look man,” Eliot growls. “A lot of people have tried to kill me before. They get a bit blurred after a while.”

Sophie hands Eliot the ice. “Ok so what did she look like?”

“She was pretty small. Maybe 5’1”?” Eliot winces as he puts the ice over the swollen spot on his head from the woman’s boot. “Dark hair, long, and dark eyes. I caught her following me after my meeting with Vance, who, by the way, says he doesn’t know anything about the virus other than it caused a lot of damage.”

“Well it was worth a shot.” Nate says, turning away to pick up his glass. “How does she know about Alice White?”

“No idea. But she told some guy named Finch that she knew who I was. Maybe she’s CIA?”

Nate shakes his head and begins pacing. “No, the CIA doesn’t operate in the states. And if they knew about you or Parker, I would know. Or at least Hardison would.”

_“Hardison would what?_ ” The voice of the man in question sounds through all their earbuds.

“Never mind, what did you get from Harold Wren’s computer?”

_“That the guy has some crazy ass security. The computer attacked me.”_

“You’re trying to tell us that a computer tried to kill you?” Eliot says.

“ _Cool it, man. I’m saying that sparks flew and threats were thrown. At first, I thought it was a hacker but now I think it must have been some kind of software on his computer.”_

“Like a virus?” asks Sophie.

“ _Sure, if a virus suddenly had super strength and the ability to read minds. It knew who I was and it told me to stay away from Harold Wren.”_

“Interesting. Where’s Parker? Did you both get out of the building?” asks Nate.

“ _No, she decided to stay and continue surveillance. She said the computer didn’t know about her and that she would wait to see if Harold Wren actually turned up_.”

“Damn it, Hardison! You left her alone in there?” Eliot says.

“ _Hey, you know how stubborn she gets! But I would never leave her alone. I’ve been watching the surveillance videos from Lucille to make sure that everything runs smoothly. She’ll be fine, I promise.”_

Nate, Sophie, and Eliot all share a look and a thought. When one of them is on their own in a dangerous place, that’s usually when the job starts to go south. It’s only a matter of time before this one does as well.

\---

Boredom. That’s what had lead Parker to break her promise to Hardison. That and her curiosity. After another hour of answering phone calls Parker had gotten up, told Heather she was going to the ladies’ room, and then she had walked up one flight of stairs to the fifth floor. Luckily, she had found another empty office with a computer and she decided to take her chances that whatever hacker or software was installed on Harold Wren’s computer would not be on this other computer. Hopefully.

Parker takes one look around at the sheep completing mind-numbing tasks in their tiny cubicles to make sure that no one is watching before she takes out her lock picking materials and the door swings open. Quickly, she enters the room and closes the door behind her. Just when she hears it click shut, the world erupts into chaos.

All the people in the large room she had just left immediately stand up, their muffled shouts of panic break through the inside window of the office as the ear-piercing alarm shrieks through the air. Parker thinks it must be the fire alarm, but her instincts tell her that it’s something more.

She runs to the outside window and looks down, gauging the distance for a drop. Without her gear, a fall from that height would at the very least cripple her and would most likely end her life. Silently, Parker curses herself for not being more prepared when Hardison’s voice sounds in her ear.

“ _Parker!”_

“Hardison, what’s going on?”

_“Parker, you need to get out of the building. Now.”_

“Yeah I’ve got that! I don’t suppose I can just follow the rest of the people out?”

_“The police have Alice White’s information including a description, a very thorough one. The alarm is to flush everyone out of the building so they can find you.”_

“Ok, so what do I do?”

There is muffled tapping on the other side of the line. She can hear Hardison’s rapid breathing.

_“The best I can do is tell you to go up to the roof. There aren’t any safe exits. Hide up there for now and hopefully Eliot can get one of his military friends to give him a helicopter.”_

“That’s my only option?”

_“Yes Parker, I’m sorry. Go!”_

Parker springs into action, throwing open the office door and high tailing it to the stairwell to her right. She shoves the door open, turns left and starts sprinting up the flights of stairs. After the fifth or sixth flight, she collides with something that knocks her to the ground.

Standing above her is a well-dressed man with dark hair turning to gray. He extends his hand to help her up. Parker warily accepts it, looking to get out of there as fast as possible. Her brain flips through all the possible excuses she could have for running up the stairs in the middle of a fire evacuation.

However, instead of asking her a question that would probably lead her to incriminate herself, the man hands her a small plastic card. She looks at it, looks at all of the information that matches her own ID, and then at the foreign name on the card: Laura Sparrow.

“My name is John, Alice. I don’t have time to explain but you’re in danger. I need you to do what I tell you and I promise that I’ll keep you safe.”

While not usually accustomed to accepting help from strangers, this option looks far better than the escape that Hardison gave her. She follows him down the flights of stairs where they eventually reach the lobby.

John holds out a hand to stop her and she watches him take in the room.

“Follow my lead,” he says before continuing forward towards the exit where six cops are standing.

Parker thinks he must be insane, but without any other ideas, she does as she’s told.

“Detective,” says one of the cops, a man with squinty eyes whose gaze drifts over Parker and then back to John. “What are you doing here? There hasn’t been a homicide has there?”

Parker’s heart speeds up. _This man is a cop?_

John shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “Of course not. I’m just collecting my informant, Ms. Sparrow, from this potential fire.”

The other man hesitates, clearly not wanting to let them through.

“Is there a problem, Officer? I’m sure I could contact your superiors to straighten it out,” says John.

Another moment, and then the cop’s mouth stretches into what he probably thinks is a smile. “Of course not, Detective. Carry on.”

John takes one last side glance at the cop, then pushes open the door, allowing Parker to walk through before him.

Parker wills her legs to move, still not believing what she just witnessed.

John moves in front of her, leading her to a black sedan parked across the street. Parker looks in the direction of Lucille, but decides that with all the cops and witnesses swirling around, she may as well continue to be this Laura Sparrow. Hopefully it won’t get her killed.

Parker climbs into the back seat of the car where another woman is already sitting. She stretches out her hand towards Parker, giving her a big smile.

“Hi, Alice. I’m Root. It’s nice to meet you.”

Parker just stares at the outstretched hand, realizing that this is the psychiatric patient that Hardison had shown the rest of the team that morning.

“I’m Shaw,” the voice comes from the driver’s seat. Parker only sees the dark brown eyes of the woman sitting there.

“Ok, if we’re through with introductions, perhaps we can go somewhere a bit safer?” says John.

Shaw turns her eyes back to the road and the car launches forward.

“Finch?” John says.

Parker whips her head to face him, wondering who he is talking to. He’s got his index finger pressed to his ear. Since Parker can’t actually see the earpiece she figures he must have one like the ones Hardison makes. Speaking of Hardison, where is he?

“Finch, we’ve got her. We’re on the way back to the safe house now.”

“Ok, I’ve got some questions,” Parker says, unable to take the mystery any longer. She turns from the window to look at the woman sitting next to her. Root.

“They always do,” says Shaw. _Geez, what’s her problem?_ Parker elects to ignore her.

“Who are you people?” she asks as Shaw turns them onto a side street. A couple of cars pass theirs by.

“Consider us a concerned third party.” Root says with a half-smile. “Your life is in danger.”

Considering Parker is a thief, that’s not too far-fetched of an idea. _But why do they think I’m Alice?_

“So you people do this for everyone or is it just me?” asks Parker, watching as an orange Mustang drives towards them. It reminds of her Eliot, another person who should be with her right now.

“We do it for as many people as we can,” says John. The Mustang gets closer.

“So why are you trying to protect me from cops?”

“Those weren’t cops,” Shaw replies, her voice flat.

“Well they are sweetie, just not good ones. And here I was thinking HR died out a long time ago.” Root adds on. The orange Mustang is almost right in front of them now. It almost looks like Eliot is driving but that can’t be right.

“What is this dumbass doing?” Shaw finally notices the car.

“Pull over, maybe he’ll just keep driving by,” John states.

“Hell no, he can get out of my way.” Shaw floors it again, stopping suddenly when the Mustang curves and blocks her path.

_It is Eliot! And Nate,_ Parker thinks.

There is another screech behind them and Parker turns around to see Hardison in the driver’s seat of Lucille.

“Shit, it’s a trap,” says Shaw. She pulls out a gun and pushes open the car door. John and Root follow suit. Parker opens her door and slowly gets out of the car.

“Parker!” says Hardison. “Come here!”

Parker looks over at Root’s shocked face, and then walks over to join Hardison.

Nate climbs out of Eliot’s car, and moves a couple of steps toward the three strangers who all look like they’re in various states of shock.

“We want answers. And you three are going to give them to us. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two teams are finally meeting!  
> Sorry I'm a little late updating, I went to Chicago this past weekend and I've been busy the last couple of days. Also I'm about to start a job that is going to take up a lot of the time I have during the week so I might start updating every Saturday or Sunday. I promise to keep writing though! I'm really excited to see where this story is headed.   
> As always, thank you for reading!


	5. Friction

_“Root? Ms. Shaw? John?”_ Finch’s voice echoes through their ears, desperately wanting to know what’s going on. There are no surveillance cameras in the area.

Shaw comes to her sense first. “Us,” she gestures to her two friends. “We’re going to tell you what’s going on?” She can’t help but laugh. “Ok, man. You need to work on your intimidation skills.”

The curly, messy-haired man turns to look at the dark-haired woman behind him.

“I mean, come on,” Shaw continues. Two basic rules of interrogation. Always have the upper hand and check your facts.”

“Sorry, check our facts?” the dark-haired woman says with a flowing English accent.

Now it’s Shaw’s turn to look at an associate. Root helps her out. “Seriously? You want us to give you answers. We can’t do that if we don’t have them.”

Reese takes this opportunity to mumble under his breath to Finch. “You there?”

“ _Yes, Mr. Reese. What’s going on?”_

“The man I saw earlier with Alice White. He’s here.”

“ _That man tried to hack the machine about two hours ago.”_

Reese locks eyes with Shaw who had followed their conversation.

“Nate!” says the man Shaw named as Eliot Spencer. “He’s got comms!”

Shaw, who had hid her weapon behind her back during the conversation locks eyes with the angry man in front of her and starts to slowly drag her hand to her side. There air is thick with tension for a moment, and then both leap towards each other at the same time.

Root watches as everyone else follows their lead. Reese follows Shaw. Nate moves back to protect the dark-haired English woman. The man driving the van disappears into the back of it. Root catches their number’s eye. Both women stand motionless, each armed with a taser. Without the Machine’s eyes, Root is going to have to do this alone.

Alice or Parker, whichever is her real name, leaps toward Root, eyes lighting up as she takes in Root’s movements. Root ducks to avoid a fist and manages to land a punch of her own. The other woman backs up, her eyes narrow.

On the other side of the car, Reese kicks Eliot Spencer into the orange Mustang. Shaw comes from behind Reese to punch their adversary in the face. With Reese distracting their opponent, she takes this moment to dive for the gun Eliot Spencer had kicked from her hands (again, she notes). He lands a punch on Reese’s cheek who retaliates by catching his opponent in the throat. Reese blocks another strike and hits Eliot in the ribs.

As the other man doubles over, Reese turns him around to shove him against the hood of car, cheek pressed hard into the surface. Shaw stands next to her partner, her gun pointed at Eliot’s head.

Both Reese and Shaw look over to the large black van where Root is lying on the ground, staring up at their number. The blonde holds her taser at the ready, awaiting any sudden moves from the brunette.

“Enough!” says Nate. “Hardison?”

“I’ve got him Nate. 30 West 63rd. Unit 32M.”

“Good. That means we have both the upper hand and our facts straight,” says Nate. He directs a smirk at Shaw.

She and Reese share a glance.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen. First, you’re going to release Eliot, unharmed. Then I will give you back the woman. Once everyone is relatively safe, you’re going to give us answers.”

“And if you don’t,” chimes in the English woman. “We’ll pay a nice little visit to whoever is on the other end of your comms unit.”

Reese slowly raises is hands, releasing Eliot. He nods at Shaw who lowers her weapon, her jaw clenching.

“Parker,” says Nate, his tone filled with warning.

She looks at Nate and then moves away from Root.

Root climbs to her feet and looks Parker right in the eye. The left side of her mouth twitches upward. “I knew you were too pretty to just be a bookkeeper.”

Parker is unable to hold the gaze.

“Ok, Finch. What do we do?” asks Reese, turning to face Root who is walking towards him and Shaw.

_“I don’t see that we have much of a choice Mr. Reese. Bring them to the warehouse.”_

“You’re sure, Finch?” Shaw says through tight lips.

“ _It’s the right place.”_

Reese turns back around to face Nate.

“Alright. We’ll play it your way. 106 Ferris St. It’s in Brookyn. It’ll be safe to talk there.”

\---

Parker looks at the red brick building as she gets out of Lucille. Even for a warehouse the building is unremarkable. Some of the bricks are chipped and others even have a green tinge to them. For the first time in a while Parker realizes that she misses her old warehouse in Boston. It really was a pity to have to light the place up when they left for Portland. It was just starting to get cozy.

The other two cars pull up next to the black van. The woman called Shaw emerges from the back seat of Eliot’s Mustang, clearly annoyed at being used as collateral to make sure that her friends ended up at the warehouse as well. To be honest, she kind of scares Parker a little bit. Not as much as her friend though. The tall one, Root, she is scary in a different way. Chaos seems to be bubbling inside her just below the surface. Parker does not want to see what happens when it spills over.

The man, John, begins walking toward the service door facing their parking spots on the street. The surrounding area is quiet, not a single person around.

Eliot turns to Shaw, holding her arm firmly. “This had better not be a trap,” he says.

The woman looks up at the sky, her jaw sliding to the right, left eyebrow rising. Parker sees her hands ball into fists but she takes no action against Eliot. “It’s not,” Shaw replies in a bored voice.

Parker doesn’t really believe her but she follows her teammates into the building all the same. This time she has her climbing gear which means she has an exit strategy for any trap the others could throw their way.

John leads them up some stairs and through a dimly lit hallway. The ceiling is filled with corroded pipes and they pass several windows looking out onto a factory floor that have shattered, pieces of glass are strewn on the ground making crunching sounds whenever one of them steps in the wrong place. Several lights are burnt out, giving the whole situation a very haunted feel. So far, Parker has not seen any windows to jump out of. She walks to Hardison and grabs his hand. He looks at her, his eyes questioning her motive, but accepts the gesture.

After another couple of minutes, the group enters a large room with a cement floor. There are support columns spread throughout and compared to the hallway the room is quite brightly lit. At the far end of the room about 25 feet away is a large computer monitor, a setup that even Hardison would envy. Sitting in an office chair in front of the screen is a man, his back to them.

When he hears them enter, the man spins around to face them. His thick glasses cover his face but magnify his already wide eyes.

“Harold Wren,” says Nate. Standing next to him is Sophie who seems to be having as much of a shock as Parker at seeing their mark.

Harold Wren’s eyebrows flinch a fraction of an inch and he locks eyes with John. His confusion passes across his face for only a split second, and then a calm demeanor appears to settle over his body. When he speaks, the man has a voice as unique as his appearance.

“I understand you have questions. The answers will put you in great danger. Are you all quite certain that you want me to give them to you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a few days late but I've been kind of busy this week. Thank you for your patience and all of your kind words. It means so much to me that you guys seem to really like the story so far!


	6. Revelation

The other team still doesn’t appear to have quite recovered from the shock of seeing their mark sitting so casually in front of them.

“Please, it is imperative to me, to all of us, that you accept this risk yourselves. There are people who know this truth and they almost died protecting it. Some of them actually did,” says Harold. This whole conversation he feels is about to go against his prior notion of protecting outsiders.

He sees Alice White turn to look at her friends and then she looks Harold square in the eye.

“I do. I accept the risk,” she says.

Gradually her friends agree as well, even the one Shaw had labelled Eliot Spencer, although he looks slightly annoyed that he has to verbally accept a risk.

Finch takes a deep breath, knowing from experience that the story can be a lot to take in. He stands and then begins his story.

“We are being watched. The government has a secret system that spies on you, on everyone, every hour of every day,” he pauses before continuing, gauging their reactions.

“Yeah man, but it’s extremely classified. Black ops level clearance. How do you know it exists?” asks Eliot.

“How do _you_ know it exists?” Shaw answers, her right hand reflexively reaching for her gun. “I worked for the Machine and I didn’t even know that it existed.”

“Maybe I just know more than you,” he replies, turning his head slightly to gaze sideways at her.

Shaw looks as though she’s thinking of doing more than just reaching for her gun now so Finch decides to continue to avoid any potential violence. He stands up to grab their attention.

“I know it exists because I built it.”

“You, you, _you_ ,” says the man who had attempted to hack into said Machine earlier in the day, weakly pointing at Finch. “You, Harold Wren, insurance underwriter, built an AI?”

“Well the insurance thing is more of a hobby. And you can call me Finch. But yes, I built artificial intelligence.”

“But what is it for? If it watches everyone, there must be a purpose. Or I need to have a very stern talk with my Congressman,” says the man who appears to be the leader of the group.

“After 9/11, the country didn’t feel safe. The government knew that the attacks could have been prevented had they known in time. So, they hired my business partner and I to design and build the Machine.”

“Yes, but what exactly did you create it,” says the British woman, gesturing towards the computer behind Finch, “to do?”

 “I designed the Machine to detect acts of terror. That’s it’s primary function but in order to teach it how to predict crimes relevant to national security I had to teach it to understand and document all of humanity, whether or not they would eventually become major threats.”

“So why have you been following Parker? You would have had to in order to know that she was in trouble at Universal Heritage Insurance,” their leader states.

“The Machine sees everything. Even violent crimes involving ordinary people. People like Parker. Even if they have an alias like Alice White,” Finch smiles cautiously at the blonde.

“So, what, it told you that she was in danger? In danger of what? Why didn’t the government get involved?” asks Eliot.

“They consider these crimes irrelevant. They don’t act to stop them because there are far too many and they don’t affect our national security.” A fact which still makes Finch’s blood boil. “And as for the danger, it’s unclear. We don’t receive that information, nor do we know if the person identified is the victim or the perpetrator. All the Machine gives us is information pointing to a name. And sometimes that’s not even correct.”

“You’re all vigilantes.” the English woman says, pointing at all four of Finch’s team members.

“If you want to put it that way,” John replies.

“So why did those cops at Universal Heritage Insurance want to kill me?” asks the former Alice White.

“We told you,” Shaw rolls her eyes. “Those weren’t really cops.”

“What Sameen is trying to say,” Root shoots her girlfriend a pointed look. “Is that they are basically guns for hire, just with cop badges. We don’t know yet who paid them to kill you just that they were paid to.”

“And they will also almost certainly try again,” says Finch. “Now, we’ve answered your questions, it’s time for you to answer ours.”

Their leader considers the proposal for a moment, then nods. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with something simple. Who are you?” John says, turning to look at the five strangers.

“I’m Alec Hardison,” says the hacker of the Machine. “But mostly people just call me Hardison.”

Parker looks around at the others in the room. “Well you already know me,” she says, turning to look at the man next to her.

“Eliot Spencer,” the man says, carefully avoiding Shaw’s eyes as he says it.

The dark-haired British woman lifts her hand lightly as she says, “I’m Sophie, Sophie Devereux.”

“And I’m Nate Ford. Together we make up Leverage, Inc.”

“You’re an incorporation specializing in what exactly?” says Finch, his wide eyes narrowing slightly.

“We help people in need. Those that suffer under an enormous weight that the judicial system is unable to lift from their shoulders. Basically, we pick up where the law leaves off.”

“What people?” asks John.

“The victims of major corporations, charities, constituents fooled by politicians that don’t have their best interests in mind,” Nate lists.

“We do the same thing as you, really,” says Sophie, gesturing at Harold’s friends. “We help people the government isn’t able to. It’s just the guilty party usually happens to be CEO’s and the wealthy population. And we don’t have a fancy computer telling us about them.”

“So what exactly is it that you do to these people?” Shaw asks, her voice flat.

“Well, Sophie’s a grifter, Hardison is our hacker, Parker’s the thief, Eliot is our hitter, and I’m,” Nate pauses in his explanation.

“Nate is our Mastermind,” Parker says, her eyes lighting up.

“You’re con men,” Finch states.

“Yeah but we’re, like, the best there is,” Hardison says, high-fiving Parker.

“I see,” Finch nods once, movement to his right catching his eye as Root and Shaw share a look.

“We also, you know, give back whatever we get from these people to the people they wronged,” says Nate, sensing Finch’s distaste.

“Well,” Sophie begins, glancing at Nate briefly, “sometimes there is a bit of extra money. Otherwise how would our company survive?”

“So why us?” John asks, averting a potential catastrophic clash between the two team leaders. “How do you know about Universal Heritage Insurance? You certainly weren’t there by accident.”

“We were looking for him,” Eliot points at Finch. “Harold Wren or Finch or whatever the hell his name is.”

“Why?” Finch turns from Eliot back to Nate.

“We have some information that strongly implies you are responsible for the virus that crippled the Internet.”

“Ice-9.”

“So, it was you?” asks Hardison, not believing that this non-threatening man could ever possibly create something that malicious, regardless of his experience in constructing an AI.

“There were,” Finch pauses, searching for the right words, “extenuating circumstances.”

“Meaning what?” asks Sophie.

“Meaning the alternative would have been far more catastrophic.”

“The real question,” says Shaw, “is how all of you know about it.”

“We have a source,” Nate replies, his eyes shifting for a split second to Hardison.

“Well we told you ours, what’s yours?” asks Root, her mouth shifting into her signature half-smile.

For the first time in an hour, there is complete silence in the room.

Parker is the first to break the silence.

“Nate just knows things,” her eyes grow at the last two words, “People that should be stopped.” She turns to look at her friends. “Right?”

Hardison looks at the ground and then at Nate. “We should tell them.”

“Damn it Hardison, tell us what?” Eliot too looks at Nate.

Nate glances at Eliot and then around at the rest of his friends, at Hardison’s accusatory stare, Sophie’s confusion, Parker’s look of uncertainty.

“This job was different than the others. I didn’t know about Harold Wren – Finch –,” Nate corrects himself as he gestures towards the other man, “until I received an email telling us everything about him.”

“Nate, we talked about this, you can’t just keep secrets from us!” Sophie says.

“Especially about our marks, Nate. Did you even fact check this email you received?” asks Eliot.

“I tried,” Hardison says, “there was nothing. The only fact I could find was that this man buys a lot of magazines. Outside of that, he’s a ghost. I couldn’t even find a trace of the fake identity which the name Harold Wren clearly is.”

“So where was this email from?” Finch interrupts their conversation.

Hardison answers for Nate. “It was an anonymous source. Completely untraceable. It was like it came from everywhere and nowhere.”

“Can I see it?”

Nate nods his approval when Hardison looks at him to check for it.

Hardison approaches the monitor for the Machine. Finch moves out of the way so he can bring up the email on the screen. Then Hardison backs away, allowing the technical genius to work.

Finch types rapidly, pulling up strings of code and performing a trace on the source, utilizing the Machine’s superior operating capacity.

It takes about twenty minutes before Finch shoves away from the desk, turning to face the rest of the group.

“We have a problem. I ran into the same issues as Hardison. The only thing in existence capable of performing this feat is the Machine.”

“I don’t see how that is a problem,” Nate says.

“Well, I checked. The Machine isn’t responsible for this.”

Root gasps and all heads turn towards her.

She shakes her head, “Finch, that _thing_ was destroyed. It’s gone. You must have made a mistake.” Root desperately tries to reason through the thoughts swirling around in her head, threatening to carry her to the place of terror she occupied two years ago.

“There’s no mistake. I even recognize some of the rerouting code it used. Which means—,”

“Samaritan,” Shaw interjects, “it’s back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it's been so long since an update! I promise I haven't abandoned this fic. Thank you to everyone who is still reading. All of your kind words and kudos and even just the increase in hits mean a lot to me!


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